


All the Colors and You

by misura



Category: Chuck (TV)
Genre: Community: rounds_of_kink, M/M, Marking, Painting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-30
Updated: 2011-07-30
Packaged: 2017-10-28 14:28:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/308838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"Neal Caffrey," Bryce says, holding out his hand by way of a hint that it's his cover.</i></p><p><i>Chuck would really like to think he'd have gotten it without the hint. "Charles Carmichael."</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	All the Colors and You

**Author's Note:**

> for a forgotten prompt by uh someone, requesting this pairing and the kink of 'painting on the body'

Chuck spots Bryce the moment he walks in - it's hard not to, really, given the way Bryce is easily the best-looking guy in the room, as well as the best-dressed one. And, okay, maybe the first one's got something to do with Chuck being a bit prejudiced when it comes to Bryce, but the second one's plain and simple fact. Chuck's own suit is a rental.

He's still new enough at this spy thing to stare at Bryce for a good five seconds, before Casey none-too-subtly shoves him in the direction of the guy Chuck's supposed to impress with how terrible he is at playing poker. Bryce barely looks up for more than a second, short enough that Chuck thinks maybe he's imagined it, but then Bryce smiles, and Chuck knows he's not imagining _that_. So.

"If you're quite done drooling, maybe we could get to work now?" and Chuck swears Casey's lips aren't moving, another one of those tricks they probably only teach you in advanced spy school.

"I wasn't - " he starts, which would be untrue. Bryce in a suit is ... something else. Almost better than Bryce out of a suit, although not quite. "It was just - " he begins again, before he realizes that there's no way Casey hasn't noticed Bryce, which means that either (1) Bryce is supposed to be here, for something unrelated to their mission or (2) Bryce is _not_ supposed to be here, and Casey's pretending he hasn't seen Bryce so that he won't have to try and kill or arrest him. "Yeah. Let's."

He's probably imagining feeling Bryce's eyes on him all the way to the table where the target's staring at his chips with an expression that reminds Chuck of Morgan during a movie marathon.

 _'Didn't this popcorn bucket use to be full?'_

 

"Hi there." Mission accomplished (tonight's part of it, anyway), Chuck has claimed a need for a drink and Casey, surprisingly or perhaps not, has promptly cited some sort task that requires doing elsewhere.

"Um. Hi." Smooth and suave, that's the key. Although perhaps not right now, given that Chuck is depressingly sure he'll never be able to out-smooth and out-suave Bryce.

Bryce smiles. He is, Chuck thinks, 150% smooth and suave. James Bond's got nothing on Bryce Larkin.

"Couldn't help but notice your boyfriend seems to have left you all alone."

As far as pick-up lines go, that one's sort of minus 1,000 points when it comes to smooth-and-suaveness. Coming from Bryce, Chuck figures it's just spy-ish (spinglish?) for _'is Casey going to gone long enough for us to talk?'_ , the answer to which Chuck's fairly certain of.

"Yeah," he says.

"Neal Caffrey," Bryce says, holding out his hand by way of a hint that it's his cover.

Chuck would really like to think he'd have gotten it without the hint. "Charles Carmichael."

"Nice to meet you, Charles." Bryce doesn't let go of Chuck's hand. "I've got a room here. Would you like to get a drink?"

This, Chuck figures, is spy-ish for _'I need to talk to you in private'_.

 

Or maybe not, given that Bryce doesn't seem particularly interested in _talking_ once they're inside his room. Chuck can't say that he minds, if only because it's hard to say anything with Bryce's tongue in his mouth.

Bryce does let him up for air after a while - Chuck notices Bryce is at least breathing hard, if not outright panting, the way Chuck feels like he's doing. "Whoa."

He doesn't mean that to indicate Bryce should kiss him some more, but Bryce seems to take it as such all the same. His shirt goes missing at some point, too, which is fine with Chuck, since now Bryce can touch his skin, even if he sort of feels that Bryce should be losing his own shirt, too, shortly.

"There's something I want to do," Bryce tells him, the second time they're breaking apart for air, which means Chuck hasn't quite got enough breath to reply that, really, Bryce can do whatever the hell he wants, so long as it involves Chuck and, preferably, not a lot of clothes.

He does manage a nod, which sends Bryce off in the direction of his suitcase.

 

Fifteen minutes later, Bryce has still got his shirt on, although Chuck has lost his pants. He feels he should be getting cold or something, but maybe Bryce has turned the heat up.

Or maybe it's just the way Bryce keeps _looking_ at Chuck, like Chuck's not so much a canvas he wants to paint as a work of art already finished and perfect, except for a few strokes.

"Chuck," Bryce says, soft and warm and like he'd much rather be putting his hands where his paint brush is going - or trying to go.

"It tickles," Chuck protests, because, well, it does. Also, it feels kind of weird, to have Bryce paint him - not in the sense of making a portrait (or a nude) but in the sense of taking a brush, dipping it in some sort of special paint, and using it to draw on Chuck's skin.

It _does_ tickle, if perhaps not quite as badly as Chuck's pretending. There's this _look_ Bryce gets whenever Chuck squirms. It makes Chuck think that maybe he can convince Bryce to leave this whole painting-Chuck thing to be finished some other time. Tomorrow, perhaps.

Bryce frowns at him. His hair is a little tousled, and the top button of his shirt is undone.

"And you're wearing too much clothes," Chuck adds.

"I want to get this right," Bryce says. "Please."

Chuck swallows his comment that the whole thing's going to be gone the first time he takes a shower after this anyway. Bryce doesn't say 'please' a lot, and Chuck rather guesses Neal Caffrey doesn't, either.

 

Three months ago, Bryce got a little rough or Chuck got a little clumsy or maybe a little bit of both - the end result, at any rate, was a big, purple bruise on Chuck's shoulder.

It wasn't _comfortable_ , exactly, but in a weird way, it was kind of comforting. It was a reminder that even if Bryce wasn't there that very moment, he _had_ been there.

Walking around with faint traces of paint still showing, for all that they were covered by his Buy More shirt is kind of the same, Chuck decides. Minus the whole part where the bruise had actually been, well, a bruise.

"Better button up that shirt, Bartowski." Casey's grin does sort of look the same, although last time, it went accompanied by some snide comments on people unable to keep their passions sufficiently in check to avoid damaging 'valuable government property' (Casey's words, needless to say, not Chuck's). "Unless you want the whole world to know your girlfriend gave you a hickey."

"It wasn't - " Chuck starts, hands already reaching.

Casey's grin widens.

"At least I _have_ a girlfriend," Chuck says weakly.

Casey snickers as he walks away.

Chuck touches his shirt and reminds himself of the expression on Bryce's face when he was done.


End file.
